What Voldemort Left Behind
by JessieBear22
Summary: The biggest and final wizard's battle in history...A disaster that ends the lives of thousands, wizards and muggles alike. The only problem is, they don't stay dead. Survivors begin to pick up the pieces. Mortal enemies suddenly need each other. Pls R&R!
1. Introduction to the Beginning

** A/N: See, one of my favorite things to write about is zombies… Yeah. That's right. I love watching anything that includes zombies. I love playing zombie video games, I love zombie books, and I love writing about them too. I know it doesn't sound quite that interesting but you should give it a chance if you like scary stories too… Although I'm not sure how scary it will be, but I'll try. :P I've somehow come up with an idea that I can incorporate this nice little theme into a Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter/Everyone fic. And no, it's not a gay story:). I've been trying to come up with this idea for forever and now I've finally figured out how to write it. All I ask is you give it a chance and review it to tell me if you want more and if you liked it. Another thing. This is merely an intro for things to come. Hope I catch you. I love new readers and old ones.**

**-Jessie**

**What Voldemort Left Behind**

His snake like eyes stared around his damp surroundings, the stone walls dripping and making soft trickling sounds. He shut his eyes against the light green glare of the magical torches.

"Master…" came a soft whisper from his right.

Ah yes… That must be Lucius Malfoy.

"Master?" the voice came again, only a bit louder.

"What do you need?" he hissed, taking in a deep breath.

"It's time to take your potion my Lord," Lucius Malfoy replied. The pungent smell filled Lord Voldemort's slit nose and he cringed away from his most valued servant.

"Not again," he said, reaching out and clutching Lucius' wrist.

"Yes. It will prolong your life for another month," Lucius replied, putting the black goblet down on Voldemort's armrest.

The Horcruxes had been destroyed a few years before and Albus Dumbledore had been successfully murdered by Lucius' offspring. Draco Malfoy had made history that night and would always be remembered as the teenage wizard who'd cut down one of the most powerful elderly wizards in the world. And everyone knew that power only increased with age. So it was a wonder that Draco Malfoy could even muster up the strength to cast an adequate Avada Kedavra curse. The youngest existing Malfoy was now feared world wide among the world of magic.

Harry Potter was actively hunting down Voldemort, who was no longer strong enough to fight him in a final duel. But Voldemort had other plans in mind. He'd succeed in what he'd always wanted to do and more. It was a marvelous plan.

He reached out for the goblet and shakily lifted it to his lips.

"Down the hatch," he croaked, taking a large gulp and cringing, his colorless face turning a nice shade of magenta as he gagged. The potion tasted as though he'd just bit into a rotting piece of meat as his slid thickly down his throat in one long sticky pile of goo.

"Swallow it, my Lord," Lucius Malfoy said. "You will need your strength for the final battle. And it seems Severus has made this potion much stronger than before. It should allow you to walk again for the full month and restore your magical power to its full extent."

"Yes," Voldemort choked out, his face twisted in a sickening grimace. "Yes. Thank him for me will you?"

"I cannot tell if you're being sarcastic or sincere," Lucius said with a small smirk forming on his lips.

"Honestly," Voldemort said, his voice suddenly taking on a much youthful and silky tone. "A little bit of both."

Lucius Malfoy watched as the Dark Lord's eyes filled with their familiar yellow pigment, when they'd been white and unseeing before. The pupils like slits against their background, as though he were peering through two golden curtains to the darkness beyond them. Lucius felt a familiar shiver go down his spine. One he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Welcome back," Lucius drawled with a nasty grin.

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"No!"

Harry Potter sat up in his bed, clutching at his forehead, cold sweat cascading down his body as he shivered, his breath unsteady and labored. He blinked a few times so that his eyes could adjust to the darkness of the room. He'd had a strange dream.

Draco Malfoy had been in it and he'd been dressed in all black firing a muggle pistol, his perfect white teeth gritted together. He'd had a black bandanna covering his hair. He wore a pair of combat boots and it looked as though he had grenades strapped to his belt. I guess he looked like one of the G.I Joe kind of guys…

Then he'd stopped and looked right at Harry, who was watching from a distance.

"It's him Potter," Malfoy drawled. "The Dark Lord…"

And all of a sudden Malfoy was gone and he was replaced by yellow eyes that were gleaming in the darkness. He could hear wicked laughter as the eyes became brighter and brighter, until he was blinded and he began to run but he wasn't going anywhere. And suddenly he felt cold clammy hands wrap around his throat and they began to drag him down…

**A/N: No, I haven't forgotten my other stories. I just am having writer's block on some of them. Unfortunately it's the more popular ones. But I will get a new chapter up for most stories soon. I know I say that a lot but if you're a writer, you know you can't just pump chapters out of your ass because then they sound like crap. Ha:D Love you all. You know what to do… Review… :)**


	2. Draco's Puppet

**A/N: HEY! Since the Intro is put up, it only made it right to put this chapter up. I hope for more readers. Remember. Give it a chance! Love you all. Review if you want more after the end of this chapter:D**

**What Voldemort Left Behind**

The double doors to the dungeons burst open against the damp solid wall, shattering into splintered pieces of wood, a violent echo blasting down the hall. A group of young Death Eaters that were playing cards jumped and stood, their eyes wide.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Vincent Crabbe exclaimed quietly, his voice quivering. It wasn't necessary for anyone to answer him.

There were no footsteps, only the distant sound of fabric swishing around in a soft breeze. A noise they'd never heard before. They were the new generation of Death Eaters. Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and the ever so infamous Draco Malfoy had come to the Dark Lord when he was already weak and dying. He had branded them with what little strength he had. The mark itself had been light and barely visible, even on the palest of skin, such as the youngest Malfoy's.

The youngest Death Eaters grabbed their left forearms, cringing slightly as a figure, clad in a cloud of black robes came flying around the corner, his feet several inches above the ground.

His jet-black hair whirled around his face, revealing deep green eyes that were alive with rich humor. A sort of demented twinkle.

"Hello boys," Voldemort whispered with a toothy smile, his long, pointed canine teeth glinting like a vampire's fangs.

The Death Eaters dropped to their knees, with their left fists pressed fast to their hearts, and their loose sleeves fell away from the Dark Mark, which was now jet black on their clammy skin, which was slightly raised up around the mark itself, as the snake slithered in and out of the skull's mouth and eyes. And quite suddenly it began to bleed.

"It's… overwhelming isn't it?" Voldemort drawled, staring down at them from under his wild and untamed hair, feeling his power seethe through his limbs, as he slowly lowered himself to the floor, his robes resting from their frenzy of movement, his long hair settling around his face.

"My Lord," said one of the youngest Death Eaters. His name was Quincy Bernack. "Welcome back. We've awaited your return to power with great vigor."

"I'm sure you did, my loyal servant," the Dark Lord whispered, something black appearing in his eyes. He moved forward and touched Bernack's head; tangling his long, pale, and bony fingers in the young man's raven colored hair.

He shut his eyes and let out a deep breath and a slight moan.

"Oh how this _does_ feel good," he whispered, staring around at his followers with something very close to love.

He smiled, his strong jaw line twitching as though this movement was very alien to him.

He was built quite well and seemed to have regained his youthful features. Not a single wrinkle touched his pale skin. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, revealing his face, and it seemed his nose had more shape and definition to it.

"Come Lucius. We have much to talk about," Voldemort said, his eyes losing their victorious glint as he glided towards the stone steps that led up from the dungeons. "Much to talk about…"

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius replied. Brushing a strand of his white hair behind his ear. It no longer carried its golden luster of youth and health…No it was the type of shade that you gained with age… The type of white that stress and fatigue caused.

His eyes were sunken in with dark circles under them.

"Good night comrades," Lucius said tiredly. "Tomorrow we have an early start."

"Yes sir," Blaise Zabini said, sitting back down, holding a deep blue handkerchief to his mark.

"And one more thing," Lucius said, thoughtfully, not really looking upon any of the young men before him directly.

"Yes sir?" Goyle asked.

"Where is my son?"

They all fell silent for a moment, staring from one to the other.

"I believe he's up in his quarters," Blaise said after a moment. "He asked me if he could borrow one of my books on dark magic. The one from my mother country."

"Ah yes. Studying," Lucius replied. "That boy's become reclusive. Not even his mother can get him out of his room any more. I thought he came down this evening."

"He did for a bit," Quincy replied. "He played out a couple of games of Jin Rummy with us. He won both games too."

"Perhaps I'll look in on him tonight before I turn in," Lucius drawled.

He then turned slowly and disappeared up the steps.

"He's starting to look his age," Goyle muttered after a moment.

"It's the Dark Lord who did it to him," Quincy replied. "When he put his hand on my head, I felt as though he were draining everything from me. My soul, my power, my strength. It didn't feel good. Let me tell you…"

"Watch what you say," Blaise said, as he dealt another hand of cards. "The big guy's got a way of hearing things around here. You don't want to get on his bad side. Especially not now, while he's back in his prime."

It was lucky for the young Death Eaters that the Dark Lord hadn't chosen to…check up on them, at that moment. Or else he would have had something to say.

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He shut his gray eyes against the dull glare of the light that was being cast across the pages of the book he had been focusing so intently on for the last couple of hours.

It was written in a foreign language that he was having a particularly difficult time translating. It was mostly a lot of symbols and such that made little to no sense to him. Thus the long hours spent studying and learning the symbols. Memorizing every curve and dot and line there was and piecing them together.

He uttered a spell and pointed his wand at the dead rat on his work desk, which was stained with blood and had burn marks all over the oak wood.

The rat twitched and began to shudder violently before it rose, small cracks could be heard from its twisted spinal column as it twisted about on its back.

Draco Malfoy watched it with great interest, as it began to squeak and tense it's small paws, then quite suddenly it flipped over onto its stomach, it's beady black eyes shimmering with the lamplight.

"You will do as I say," Draco whispered, with his eyes shut. "I am your master and you will do as I say until I have no further use for you. I am your God, I am your Hell, and you will _do as I say_…"

He flicked his wand in a small semi circle and touched the tip of it to the rat's forehead. The rat's eyes glazed over for a brief moment in which it looked as though it had returned to its grave again and then that dead gaze cleared and it scurried about on the desk top sniffing at the blood stains and eating the small cracker Draco had set down in front of it.

"Roll over," Draco thought, staring at the rat intently, feeling its presence in every inch of his mind.

The rat paused for a moment, its whiskers twitching and quite suddenly it rolled over onto its back with its four paws in the air. The left set twitched in unison.

"Now," Draco said with a small sneer forming across his features. "Go bite Quincy Bernack on his ankle. Draw as much blood as possible. Then I have no further use for you and you can return back to your final resting state. Don't let go until he screams."

Draco opened his bedroom door and let the rat scurry out, it's twisted spine causing it to have to drag it's back feet, but it disappeared quickly and Draco shut his door again, and sat on his bed, waiting for that satisfying sound.

He couldn't stand that little prick. As a matter of fact, he hated him more than Potter. And it was only because he'd told Draco upon the night of his branding that he would soon take Draco's place in the Dark Lord's good graces. Draco had merely smeared at him and grabbed his left wrist, ripping the loose sleeve back from his skin.

**Flashback:**

"**That's funny," Draco had sneered. "It seems to me he didn't even put an ounce of effort to make your branding visible… You might as well not even be a Death Eater at all Bernack… He accepted me with open arms for killing one of his greatest oldest most powerful enemies… I was awarded with a mark that actually _shows_." **

**Bernack had wrenched his wrist out of the older man's grasp, glaring up into Draco's cold calculating eyes. **

"**Keep your place, newby," Draco said. "And we'll get along fine… Besides, if you continuously get in my way, I shall have to end your life." **

"**You wouldn't dare kill one of your own," Quincy had snarled, his voice quivering. **

"**You're not one of anything yet. Not until you prove yourself," Draco drawled. "And you'd be surprised at how easy you'll disappear if I give the word."**

"**You don't have the power," Quincy growled. **

"**Oh yes I do. And if you would have killed Albus Dumbledore, you would have my position now…" Draco replied mockingly. **

"**You didn't kill any body Malfoy. Everybody thinks that Severus Snape did it for you. You're too much of a coward. Your threats are empty to me. You couldn't kill that senile old man and you most certainly wouldn't have the guts to kill me."**

**And that's what made Draco Malfoy snap that night.**

**He stared at the smaller man intently and quite suddenly the man was lifted from the ground, his feet dangling and waving around wildly. **

"**Try me," Draco growled. "_Dare_ me to. I'll do it right now."**

**Quincy looked genuinely scared. **

"**Crucio!" Draco yelled. **

**Bernack began to writhe and scream in his agony and anger when suddenly…**

"**Stop this!" came a booming growl from behind Draco. Draco spun around and Quincy fell to the floor still shrieking. **

"**What is the meaning of this Draco?" Lucius Malfoy cried lividly. "Lift it, lift it _now_!"**

**Draco stared at his father defiantly, his wand levitating just above his left shoulder, held directly at the newest edition to the Death Eater fellowship. He crossed his arms and grinned at Lucius Malfoy darkly. **

"**I intend to kill him father," he said. "He's called me a coward." **

"**Lift it Draco!" Lucius repeated firmly. **

**Draco reached up casually and plucked his wand out of the air, tucking it away in his trench coat. He then chuckled down at Quincy Bernack an ugly grin lighting his features. **

"**Still think I'm not capable? The next time you even think of insulting me, remember where one curse begins and where another curse ends… Because the next time you decide to get cocky, the last thing you'll see is a flash of green light." **

**Draco then left the room swiftly. **

**End**

He waited and then suddenly a high-pitched cry came from somewhere in the dungeons and he grinned leaning back into his pillows. He then glanced over at his bare forearm and frowned slightly. It was jet black… How come he hadn't felt it burn? His frown only deepened and turned slowly into a scowl.

Then that meant…

"The Dark Lord…" Draco whispered sitting straight up.

Somehow he didn't think this was a very good thing. But the familiar tinge. Why hadn't he felt that?

He always felt it…

Draco leaned back into his pillows as a soft knock came on his door.

"Yes?" he snapped irritably.

"Draco it's me," he heard his mother's voice on the other side of the door.

"Come in," he replied sitting up.

"Can you explain this?" she asked, holding up the dead rat with its twisted spine.

"I don't know… I didn't kill it," Draco said with a shrug.

"No," Narcissa replied. "The rat trap killed it. I saw it a half an hour ago and then it disappeared. And just a moment ago I spotted it chewing into Quincy's ankle. What do you know about it?"

"Nothing," Draco said, staring back at her innocently.

**A/N: Alright thank you for my TWO reviews. I love you both for it and this chapter is dedicated to you both. Lets hope for more for this chapter:D **


	3. The Clairvoyant

**What Voldemort Left Behind**

Draco sat in front of the Dark Lord utterly shocked as he stared at his leader.

"My," he whispered. "Snape can do wonders with restoration potions."

"Yes, he has done a nice job hasn't he?" Voldemort drawled, admiring his youthful looking skin, that only a day before had been a sickly gray.

"Tea?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes," Draco said. "Please."

"So," Voldemort began. "I hear you've been doing quite a bit of studying lately. And I've brought you here for a request."

"Which would be?" Draco asked.

"I want you to show me what you can do," Voldemort said. "I recently got a complaint from Mr. Bernack that you've been using your newly learned skills against him… I find it quite amusing. He said a rat with a crooked spinal column bit him last night and that it's your doing."

"How is that _my_ doing?" Draco asked politely. But he couldn't conceal the wide smirk that had spread across his pale features.

"You know exactly what I mean, Draco," Voldemort said chuckling. "Now don't get me wrong. I have my favorites… And I have my…well… Let's just say that some of my Death Eaters I could live without talking to."

"Like Quincy Bernack for instance?" Draco asked.

"Yes. But you're not to repeat that," the Dark Lord replied with a courteous smile.

"You have my word," Draco replied.

"My request is this: I don't want you using any of your learned skills on Mr. Bernack. Whether you like it or not, he's still needed very much in this operation and I can't have him running off blabbing out everything that goes on down here because you've pushed him too far. He is weak in the sense that he can't take a little bit of pressure or competition. Or bullying if you must. Trust me when I say, _he will crack_. And I need him to stay loyal."

"And you think I'll drive him to betray you…" Voldemort's eyes darkened. Draco sometimes spoke to the Dark Lord in a way that Voldemort found disrespectful. As though the young man didn't take him quite as seriously as he would like to be taken.

"My lord," Draco added with a smile.

He watched as the Dark Lord's eyes became clear again, the anger fog disappearing from his view.

"How's the tea?" Voldemort asked cheerily. Draco wasn't quite sure how sincere it was but he returned it all the same.

"It's perfect," he replied.

"Just like always," Voldemort said.

The truth was, Draco knew just how to skate around the Dark Lord. He knew what set him off and what put him back into place. Draco did not fear Voldemort as the others did. He was trusted by the darkest wizard of the west, but it didn't mean Draco Malfoy was one to be trusted.

He worked alone for the most part. The only reason he'd stuck with Voldemort this long was because they fought for the same cause. But that was about to change… At least the part about them working for the same thing.

Truth be told, Draco Malfoy had a feeling that Voldemort wouldn't be around too much longer, and that he'd go out with a big bang.

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Sweat…

His heart was beating hard against his chest.

He was running down the dark and deserted streets of London.

Eyes like fire in the night sky…

A wand pointed towards the stormy clouds of heaven.

And he heard it shatter, like gunfire, as the sky was lighted by red for miles around, wizards and muggles floored; face down in the same gutters, side by side. Good and evil finally colliding for the last time.

Alleys twisted and turned, and he could hear his breathing escaping him in harsh gasps.

Did he lose them?

Damn the Dark Lord…

He turned, afraid of what he might see, but there was nothing and nobody.

And suddenly he wished he wasn't so alone. Not in this dark oblivion. His family was dead. His Dark Lord… gone. And he'd seen Hermione Granger, from a rooftop, fighting off a horde of whatever the hell those things were.

They used to be human…

He tried to scream but nothing came out. And suddenly the wind began to blow. And it knocked him off of the roof and into the crowd of dead cold hands, waiting to receive him from the skies.

Draco Malfoy sat up in his bed, sweat dripping from his brow, and dull panic pulsing through his veins.

He didn't know that somewhere out there, Harry Potter was pacing his bedroom, wondering why Draco was parading around in his dreams, and that the same visions were waking the future survivors of the red plague all over England.

**A/N: This is a short chapter and nothing really happened. Is just seemed like an appropriate place to stop it. But now that we're done with creating the mood I can get on with the exciting stuff. I hope it's not moving too slow. Just know things will be taking a more exciting turn in the next chapter. Review if you want more. And THREE reviews is what I got. I hope you three like it. Thanks so much. You guys are great. **


	4. The Red Plague

**A/N: There you have it. The fourth chapter! Enjoy!**

**And Also:**

**Disclaimer: I keep forgetting to put these in. O.O Whoops. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Except for the patient and random male nurse. **

**What Voldemort Left Behind**

Hermione Granger shot up from her pillow, clawing at invisible attackers in the early hours of the morning, and it was still dark out.

She'd been having these dreams for a week now and they kept getting more and more graphic as time went on.

She looked around her bedroom relieved that she was really alone, and let her hands rest in her lap. What the bloody hell was going on? She felt as though she hadn't slept at all. She'd gained dark circles under her eyes and a pale complexion that gave her an ill appearance.

The funny part was, Draco Malfoy had been in her dream. She was running away from a herd of them… The group of Inferius' was moving in on her. She was running away from them, having lost her wand and she glanced up to find Draco Malfoy staring down at her from a rooftop. She didn't know how she knew it was him… She just did.

And then he was gone from her view as she locked herself in a small pub. But they were inside of the pub too. There was no escape from them.

She rubbed her eyes and shook her head.

She hadn't had a good night's rest in days and was so fatigued she was falling asleep at work. Which wasn't alright seeing as she was a Healer.

She glanced up at her clock on the wall.

"Speaking of," she groaned. It was time to get up and get ready to go into work. She was taking over Diane's shift in an hour and a half.

She felt chilled from her head to her toes and she still found herself throbbing dully in the places where they'd grabbed her.

She got into the shower and hoped she would begin to wake up.

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The streets were peaceful and quiet as she drove to work. Perhaps it was just her imagination but she wasn't quite sure… She'd had a bad feeling as she had left her cozy little apartment… She hadn't wanted to leave at all. What she didn't know was that it had already started. Dawn was approaching and soon daybreak would be here. She wished that the sun would come up sooner.

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Harry Potter grabbed his coat. He knew what he had to do.

The yellow eyes had been in his dream again. Only, he could see inside of them to what was behind the golden curtains. There was a man standing near an infant's crib, and a flash of green light. And the Dark Wizard that was now Harry Potter's worst adversary in his adult years, stumbled out of Harry's nursery, holding his chest. He paused to lean on the doorframe, and from the looks of it he was gasping for air. Harry could see past him, to his baby self crying, and using the wooden bars on the crib to keep himself standing.

He saw himself as a little one-year-old child, blood running into his emerald green eyes. And he was reaching for something or someone lying on the floor beneath him. And when Harry tried to look past the Dark Lord, he saw his mother sprawled beneath the crib, one hand on her chest clutching a locket.

Harry had taken a closer look at this locket in his dream, and he saw that it held a family picture of his mother, his father, and himself.

And when Harry woke at three in the morning, he knew what he wanted to do. He knew what he _had_ to do. And he was going to do it. Somehow, he knew where Voldemort was at this very moment in time and he would find him. And when he did, he would end his enemy for once and for all.

After that dirty deed was done, Harry decided he might just go after the Dark Lord's followers as well.

He grabbed his broom and flew into the night.

As the air rustled his hair, he realized that it felt different. It felt cold, thick, and still… Like the calm before a storm.

He shivered and shut his eyes, sending his mind out to search for his target and he found him quickly, seeing as Voldemort was near… Too close for comfort.

"I'm waiting for you Harry," came a soft hiss on the wind. "It's time for you to face me, one on one."

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Hermione yawned, putting a hand over her mouth as she changed a young teenage wizard's dressings.

"I guess you'll think twice next time you try to vandalize the Malfoy Manor won't you?" Hermione asked rubbing her eyes and then stretching.

"What?" the young man asked. "Are you best mates with the Malfoys or something? Why do you care if I shatter some of their windows and set fire to their hedges? Nobody lives there anymore."

"I don't," Hermione replied. "But what I do care about is my patients. And you're no good to me if you're dead. That old house has so many dangerous charms set around it, you're lucky you're still in one piece," she said.

"Old magic dies hard," the teenage boy said.

He didn't have any idea just how accurate that statement was.

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"Hello Harry," came a voice from behind him. He spun around to find a hooded figure coming towards him.

"Voldemort," Harry whispered.

"That would be me," the Dark Lord drawled. He reached up and took his hood down so that Harry could see his face.

"So I think we both know why we're here," Harry said. He was fingering his wand inside of his pocket.

"No," Voldemort replied, pulling out his wand. Harry was immediately in a defensive stance, his wand out and pointed towards the older wizard. "I know why we're here. But you don't… Not yet at least."

"Enlighten me," Harry spat.

"Oh you're very bitey this morning," Voldemort chuckled at his own joke.

"Yeah being woken up by flashbacks of my mother's death does that to me every time," Harry snapped.

"Well…" Voldemort began. "If you think I'm here to finish you off… You'd be right…"

Harry raised his wand and opened his mouth, his mind clouded by rage.

"Expeliarmus!" Voldemort shrieked. Harry's wand flew from his hand and into the gutter to his right.

Harry reached out quickly and suddenly his wand flew from the gutter back to his fingers.

"Well you've gotten quick," the Dark Lord said with a large sharp smile. "Let me guess? Dumbledore taught you that right?"

"No actually," Harry said. "Hermione taught me how to perfect my wandless magic."

"That's your little mudblood friend right? The ugly little bucktooth girl that one of my favorite Death Eaters just despises with all of his black little heart?"

"Which would be Malfoy right?" Harry asked with a roll of his eyes. "What have you brought me here to do?"

"Well… Like I've said. Kill you is one of my top priorities. But I've decided that I wouldn't be satisfied with just you… A few years ago maybe… But not now. You see… Over time I've had a growing resentment towards all wizards. Every-single-one. They all want to end me. Even my own followers…"

Harry was contemplating what on Earth Voldemort could be talking about. The Dark Lord was still very fast in his old age. And there was an indecisively large amount of power emanating off of him.

Perhaps the Dark Lord had grown paranoid as well as senile.

"They're tired of serving me Potter," he replied.

"Shocker," Harry whispered.

Now was the time to strike, whilst Voldemort was ranting on and on about what drove him to this point in his long, long, loooooooooong life. That should've ended so many years ago, except for the fact that he had his soul split and hidden away in like twenty different parts of the world. Not that many, but it seemed that way when you were trying desperately to find ways to kill the craziest wizard in the world, who had otherwise been immortal until a few years back when they'd found and destroyed the last Horcruxe.

Harry tried to raise his arm, but found he couldn't move an inch.

"What on Earth?" Harry hissed. He could feel the Dark Lord's magic binding his arms and legs tightly together, and it only grew tighter when he struggled.

"So that's what's brought me here. To finish you _all_ off," he said.

"See how easy it is when you get sidetracked Harry? How easy it is for me to keep you out of the way. I just wanted you to be here to witness my genius plan, seeing as it will be the last thing you ever witness… I didn't want an audience. Just you."

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"Narcissa!" Lucius cried out in the silence of the morning. He rolled over and wrapped his arm around his wife's sleeping form.

"Hmmm?" she asked.

"Wake up dear!" he whispered, his voice shaking and panic pulsing through his whole being. "It's the Red Plague!"

"The what?" she asked, rolling over to look into her husbands gray eyes, which were filled with fright.

"The Red Plague!" Lucius breathed. "We've got to Aparate!"

"Lucius? What on Earth?" Narcissa whispered rolling over.

"The Dark Lord! He plans to end us all!"

"Lucius have you gone crazy?" Narcissa murmured.

But before she could say anything else, her husband grabbed a hold of her and in the blink of an eye, Draco Malfoy's parents had fled… Lucius in such a hurry that he hadn't thought of his only child, who was wide-awake lying in his bed, cold sweat drying on his forehead.

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"Take my life!" Harry yelled. "For all of those innocent people! Take me. I'm the only one you want!"

"That's where you're wrong!" Voldemort replied. "I want them all gone."

He lifted his wand above his head and screamed a curse that was in a foreign language. And quite suddenly, a jet of red light burst from the tip and flew into the sky, spreading for miles and miles, the red pressing in on Harry in a whirling cloud.

He gasped and felt the thick substance fly into his lungs and cloud everything around him. He began to cough and sputter.

He could see Voldemort in the cloud of death, shriveling into the weak creature he had been before the potion that Snape had made him. And he fell down on the street his arms sprawled out and suddenly the powerful magic that kept Harry tied, broke and Harry too, fell forward.

He rolled over onto his back and saw the sky alive with red swirling clouds, the air around him fogged with the curse Voldemort had cast. And he shut his eyes, letting a deep unconsciousness take him from the crimson oblivion, a hot burning in his throat, eyes, ears, and lungs.

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Hermione heard screaming coming from the front of St. Mungo's hospital and she turned just in time to see the doors flung open, glass shattering all over the floor.

It seemed that a red whirling tornado was flying into the hospital.

Hermione cried out and ducked behind the front desk.

"What on Earth?" somebody cried. Doctors were coughing and collapsing all around her.

"Granger!" she felt somebody grab her arm and she turned around to find a young male nurse staring up at her. "Do something," he pleaded hoarsely.

The red was seeping around her and she held her breath until she couldn't anymore and when she took another breathe, she inhaled it. And quite suddenly a horrible burning sensation pulsed through her and her vision clouded over and then there was nothing.

**A/N: Mkay. There you have it. It's longer than the last chapter. I love you guys. THREE reviews still. :( I hope I start getting more. Tell me what you liked or disliked PLEASE! I want to know what you guys think. Review:D**


	5. The Cloud

**A/N: It's been a while. But as I've posted on my other stories, my goal is to update all of my works in progress in the next two to three days. I'm hoping for good reviews. I have a new story out called The Fog. Check it out if you like this. Not because they're similar but because if you like any of my other works or my style of writing, you might like that as well. Anyway. Enjoy. Love to all. **

**-Jessie**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters. All belong to J.K. Rowling. **

**What Voldemort Left Behind**

Draco Malfoy sat up in bed, fear striking him deep in his heart as he heard horrible shrieks coming from outside his bedroom door. The Death Eater lair was alive with it and he stood quickly and looked at the clock on his wall. It was just before dawn. What was going on? It was then that he glanced out of his window and saw a red swarming cloud outside. His eyes widened when he realized exactly what that was… It was the unknown unforgivable… The curse that was only a myth in the history of wizards, which naturally meant Draco had only read about it.

"Oh Dear God!" he whispered. He backed against his door running through any counter charm he could perform that would save his life… His life that he estimated was going to end in at most five minutes if he didn't figure it out quick… And that's if he was lucky… _Very_ lucky. It sounded like the Red Plague had already hit in other parts of the lair.

"Come on Draco," he growled desperately running his fingers through his hair. "Come on!"

His eyes fell to the floor where he saw a bit of red substance seeping around his feet from underneath the door. He let out a startled cry and jumped away from it coming into the center of his bedchamber. There was a light cracking coming from behind him and he turned slowly to see the glass in his window splintering and slowly breaking. He watched, his gray eyes taking in every detail of the cracks spreading. He didn't even have time to make peace with his God if he had wanted to. Both the windows on either side of his bed caved in simultaneously from the pressure of the red cloud outside. Draco reached up with his arms and covered his face. It was useless though.

He was holding his breath now as he threw himself onto his bed, determined to protect his face and his air passages. He burrowed deeply into his pillow, still holding his breath and ran through the properties of the Red Plague. How long did it last? What were its affects? The answers came to him slowly in his panicked mind.

The spreading of the 'disease' lasted three hours. Meaning the virus could live in the air for that time frame. If it didn't find a host to feast on before then it would dissipate. It was communicable by 98.9 percent roughly. Perhaps more. It was fatal… Side affects for very rare survivors were, as muggles called it, zombie like qualities. The side affects before the termination of the host lasted up to three months depending on the condition of the corpse it inhabited. Eventually the virus would tire out its host causing the body itself to fall apart. Likeliness of a survivor that lived without any of the _zombie_ side affects was slim to none. Less than 2 percent lived at all, not including but not limited to the zombies. And the ratio of zombies to corpses varied greatly in number. The Plague was known to reanimate corpses although some of the people affected by it never got up again. The Red Plague was designed to kill and kill only. Some of its characteristics were still unknown. Like one of the most important ones… How far did it spread? Draco figured it spread as far as it could in three hours and it went wherever the wind carried it.

Another unknown characteristic of the virus was, did the virus continue to be infectious after it entered a host. Could it be spread to live hosts or survivors that were still able to function as human beings? Thus turning them into zombies or killing them off completely.

Draco remembered reading that through several times, memorizing it. He knew how to cast the Red Plague but he had never in his wildest dreams ever considered doing it. Well maybe he'd fantasized about doing it but that was a fantasy. Which meant he never planned to act upon it. He wasn't even sure if he was skilled enough to pull it off. He supposed if Tom Riddle could do it then he could. He could do anything the Dark Lord could do and more. He would've never told Lord Voldemort that but he supposed they both knew it. That's why the Dark Lord had continued to polish Draco until he began to outdo him. Then Draco's private lessons with the Dark Lord drizzled away to nothing, which in turn caused Draco to turn to independent study, which he was quite proud to say he was excelling at. Rather quickly too…

The only thing Draco couldn't recall reading about this specific curse was the cures for it. He was dreadfully certain that was because there had been none. And he was beginning to run out of air. It was a foreign curse and in all of the spell books he'd read, that even had the slightest bit of information about it, had stated it took pure evil and a great talent for Dark Magic to successfully cast it. He supposed that didn't make him a likely candidate. Draco didn't consider himself _pure_ evil… Not really. In his opinion pure evil was the complete destruction of the soul, or lack there of. Meaning the very embodiment of the Dark Lord himself.

His body was beginning to slow down considerably and he ran through his options. He was going to die anyway right? He could silently cast the killing curse on himself and make it so the Red Plague _never_ reanimated his corpse, he could bite the bullet and breath the virus in and risk becoming a zombie, or he could just hold his breath until he passed out and really not worry about his options at all… He didn't have much time to decide. He could also breathe it in and hope that maybe he was part of the less than 2 percent that lived to tell the tale. Every part of him told him to just end it. He didn't want to be a mindless cannibal… He wasn't even sure if the said 'zombies' ate flesh like the muggles claimed they did. Perhaps they just wandered around aimlessly until they died off? Perhaps they starved to death in less than three months? What if they didn't need sustenance anymore at all because it's a walking corpse? He didn't know and he figured he probably never would…

It was then that Draco Malfoy realized he'd begun breathing again and he very quickly felt the evil red substance entering his lungs. He rolled over onto his back and clutched for his wand making his decision… But it was too late and his wand had flown askew when he'd thrown himself onto his bed. He began to cough and gag, feeling a deep horrible burning sensation as his vision blurred over into nothing…

Draco Malfoy didn't go out with a big bang… No… He didn't go out with a whimper…

His hand fell limply to his side and then there was nothing from the most dangerous Death Eater that had formerly walked the Earth. Not this time… There wasn't even a struggle. One might say for the severity and viciousness of the virus he went out rather peacefully…

--

It was safe to say that many of the inhabitants of the United Kingdom died sleeping in their beds. Those going to work at that early hour had died in their cars, but very few were in the streets. The sun was coming up but you couldn't really tell seeing as the sky was still clouded over by the red swirling oblivion that was the airborne killer.

All was quiet and the only thing that could be heard was the wind whistling through the streets. The buses in London wouldn't run that morning. Businesses wouldn't open and people wouldn't buy the paper. Pets wouldn't get fed and houseplants wouldn't get watered.

Perhaps the cats and dogs of the world wouldn't have to worry about that much anyhow. Maybe the curse got them too…

--

Three Hours Later…

His eyes shot open and he sat up in the still deserted street of Muggle London, coughing sharply and trying desperately to get even a little bit of breath into his lungs, which felt shriveled up and dead. He put his hands over his mouth and continued to choke and hack. When he brought his hands away he saw a liquid like substance dripping down his palms. It reminded him vaguely of blood but the smell of it definitely crossed that out as an option.

Harry Potter slowly got to his feet, staring around him in wonder. The first thing that came into his view was the Dark Lord's corpse only feet away from himself.

He reached up, this being a habitual movement on his part, and went to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose when he realized they weren't there. He felt his head for them and his thought was confirmed.

"What?" he whispered hoarsely looking around him. He thought he must be dreaming… Or perhaps dead? Maybe he was a ghost… Because before all of this he couldn't see an inch past his nose clearly without his glasses. He quickly scanned the street for them and found them crushed in the gutter. He hurried and knelt down not really fully understanding the scene around him… His mind hadn't yet registered that yes indeed, Tom riddle was dead behind him. He could see crystal clear without his glasses, the sky was still red above him and was that way for miles, and he was still alive… Although he had a pounding headache and his chest hurt worse than the time Hagrid had accidentally fallen backwards onto him in his fifth year at Hogwarts. Too much fire whiskey was bad for that man.

He folded his broken spectacles and put them into his back pocket before he bent and picked up his wand as the memory of what had happened came flooding back to him. Harry Potter suddenly had a horrible suspicion that maybe he was one of the only people left alive in the immediate area. This sent a sharp panic through out his already shocked mind and he took a few steps backward, nearly tripping over Voldemort's dead body. He then spun and glared down at the old man's pathetic form before he brought his foot swiftly into the dead man's ribs.

"Damn you!" he yelled. He knew that the world around him should've been buzzing with life by this time in the morning, but all was quiet. "Damn it!" he bellowed again, kicking Tom Riddle's stiffening body once more. He stepped over his worst enemy and turned in a circle taking in his surroundings.

What was he to do?

"What did you do?" Harry growled, addressing the dead man. "What in God's name did you do?"

It was then that his two best friends came into his mind. Hermione and Ron. If he was alive there was still a chance that they were right? Ronald wasn't even in the United Kingdom right now. He was in the states… That's it! He'd contact Ronald… Tell him what happened… But first he'd find Hermione and hopefully she'd be all right… He could only hope…

He reached down and scooped up the Dark Lord's wand, tucking it away with his and he broke into a run set on his plan.

--

He thundered down the empty roads, thankful that Voldemort hadn't decided to do this in the middle of the day when everyone was out and about. There were a couple of bodies here and there of people that Harry did not know. And he didn't take the time to see if he did. It was too late for them already.

He leapt over a woman in her bathrobe at the foot of some steps that led into an apartment complex. He noticed a pack of cigarettes, its content spilled out around her head and a lighter just inches from her dead fingers. For some odd reason that made Harry shiver but he kept going, ignoring the horrid pain in his lungs. He was determined and he was coming up on Hermione's flat very quickly. He wouldn't rest until he knew what kind of state she was in. But part of him needed her to be okay…

She and Ron had been everything to him since he was eleven years old. They were his family… What would he do if he lost them? He was hoping he didn't have to find out.


End file.
